Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
"You're right." I settled back against the couch, remembering my own experiences. "I've been inside some of those kitchens, and it's worse than a locker room. In a multitude of ways." The image of her shrinking under some egotistical chef's threats made my jaw clench. "Your bread is amazing."
Her face brightened. "Thanks. That's my best friend Torey, she is a bread genius I swear."
A certified bread genius would be wonderful for the resort when it opened, but that thought evaporated when I realized there was a good chance Nix would throw me out if I asked. "Are you and your brother close?"
She hugged a pillow to her chest. "As close as we can be, sure. He's gone more than he's here and it's been that way since he enlisted." Worry creased her brow. "What about you and your brother?"
"We're close, yeah. Rarely geographically close since he's always performing all over the globe but we're really close. He's my best friend. The only person I really talk to." I had a handful of assistants that handled my business, servants at my homes, and business acquaintances. "No one else I'd consider a friend even though his name is Mac but he goes by Lancaster as if he's the only Lancaster."
Her laughter burst out like champagne bubbles, bright and infectious. She covered her mouth, but her eyes still sparkled with mirth. After a few seconds, another laugh escaped. "Sorry," she gasped. "Sorry, but that's so funny." She attempted to school her expression. "I mean not funny, just something else that isn't...funny."
The corners of my mouth lifted involuntarily. Nix was this fascinating blend of feisty and sweet that drew me in despite my better judgment. "It's funny but it's also annoying. If he wasn't my best friend I'd be more pissed about it."
She nodded, amusement still dancing in her eyes. "He's very talented though, you must be proud."
"I am."
"What about your folks, they must be over the moon to have two successful sons. Or, are there more siblings?"
Her genuine interest caught me off guard. Most people who asked about my family had already googled every detail. "Our parents died when we were young and our aunt and uncle raised us. They're incredibly proud, even if they don't like us spoiling them."
"That's sweet."
The word struck me. "Nobody has ever accused me of that before."
Her laughter, low and husky, sent warmth curling through my chest. "First time for everything. So, Lee. What do you do when you aren't working?"
Another thoughtful question, unlike the usual queries about my jet or bank account. "I'm always working."
"Always?" Disbelief colored her tone.
"Yes. Most of my meals are often business meetings. Most of my dates are charity or political functions. When Mac is in town we go out to eat, hike sometimes and visit our aunt and uncle."
"That explains it." She snapped her fingers, pointing at me triumphantly.
"Explains what?"
She worried her bottom lip, considering her words carefully before straightening her spine. "Why you seem so uptight. You're uncomfortable even in Ryan's clothes."
"Probably because I'm wearing another man's clothes." My dry delivery set off another round of her addictive laughter.
"Okay, but putting on casual clothes didn't make you more relaxed. Not a criticism just an observation." She unfolded her legs and rose gracefully.
The firelight caught the sway of her hips as she walked to the kitchen, and I had to stifle a groan when she bent to peer into the fridge. What a shame she hated me more than she was attracted to me—I could think of far better ways to generate heat.
Nix returned with an open bottle of beer for me and wine for herself. As she poured, we talked, our conversation flowing easily while the storm raged outside and the fire crackled beside us. Her intelligence matched her wit, each response revealing new layers to her personality.
I was developing feelings for the curvy baker, and it made no sense. Nothing could come of it. No matter how comfortable we became or how much we learned about each other, we'd always stand on opposite sides of an unbridgeable divide.
Holiday Grove.
"Serious question," I said, taking another pull from my beer—was it number two or three? "Why don't you want your town to grow? It's the surest way to make sure it still exists in fifty years."
Her shoulders stiffened instantly, warmth draining from her expression. Then came that bitter laugh that should have sent any sane man running. "You want your resort to grow, not the town. Sure, it might help your bottom line if more people come to Holiday Grove, but if they don't you don't care. At least be honest with yourself about that."
She wasn't wrong. While I hadn't planned to destroy the town, if its destruction didn't hurt my profits, did I really care? The answer settled like ice in my gut: I didn't.